


Flash & Filigree

by sarahcakes613



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Breastplay, Dirty Talk, Episode Tag, Episode: s18e13 Genes, Excessive use of the word "tits", Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Nipple Piercings, specifically Sonny fantasizing about Rafael's chest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28377381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: Two things happen in rapid succession: First, Rafael says the three most beautiful words Sonny has ever heard. Then, Sonny walks in on Rafael changing his shirt and discovers he has a pierced nipple.Sonny plays those two moments on a loop in his brain when he's alone in his bed.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	Flash & Filigree

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've wanted to write since I watched Genes back in August and thought about Sonny immediately going home and jerking himself raw over Rafael saying "thank you, Carisi".

“Thank you, Carisi.” It’s only three words, said in a faintly sardonic tone, but Sonny is taking the win. Rafael Barba thanked him for his input. He’s going to hear those words on a loop in his head for hours.

He’s so distracted by the way his last name sounds in Barba’s mouth as he ushers the kid out of the office that they’re nearly to the elevator when he realizes he’s left his coat behind.

He apologizes to the Lieu, but she waves him off, telling him she’ll take Will home before getting in touch with the victims.

“Take the rest of the afternoon, Carisi. We’re going to need to be at the top of our game tomorrow morning.”

He nods even as he is already turning back to Barba’s office.

The door isn’t fully latched and he only knocks once before swinging it open.

“Hey, sorry, I just forgot my…” his words trail off as he stops just inside the door, his body frozen and his eyes glued on the man standing partially undressed in front of him.

Not even five minute ago, the ADA had been wearing a blue striped shirt, grey vest, and orange patterned tie. The tie and vest are balled up on his desk now, and his shirt is unbuttoned to the waist, suspenders hanging down against his legs.

At the sound of the door he’d looked up in surprise, and Sonny sees a large damp stain spreading across his white undershirt, the muddy brown of spilled coffee.

The coffee cup on the floor, its lid knocked askew, explains the situation further.

“Can I help you, Detective?” Barba’s voice has lost its sardonic tone and is now harsh and tinged with embarrassment.

Enough coffee has spilled that his undershirt is clinging to his skin and Sonny’s eyes are drawn down to his pecs, which flex unconsciously under his gaze. Barba’s build is solid, muscle hidden by only a layer of softness above, and his chest is well-defined, his pecs slightly rounded and pushing against the undershirt.

As they flex and bounce, something about the shape of one of them catches Sonny’s focus and he realizes with a start that he is staring at what is very clearly Rafael Barba’s pierced nipple. There’s just the slightest extra pull on the fabric, two tiny studs on either side of a barbell, but it’s clear as day.

His throat goes dry as he realizes Barba is staring at him, has asked him a question that he hasn’t answered.

“Forgot my, uh, forgot my coat.” He grabs it from the couch, waving it at the ADA. “I’ll just – go. Sorry, again, um. I’m just going to…go. I’ll see you in court tomorrow.”

He backs out of the office, his cheeks flushed red with the mortification of walking in on the other man in a state of undress.

His crush-slash-hero worship on the ADA isn’t something he’s in denial of, and his slacks had already gone a bit tight when Barba had said those three little words to him, but now on top of that verbal loop there is an overlay of that tiny barbell poking out of the man’s undershirt.

By the time he gets home, his mind is a mess of thoughts and he is walking even more bowlegged than usual. He keeps mentally replaying the few seconds – less than a minute – he was back in the office. The image is frozen indelibly in his mind and the longer he thinks about it the more the details fill in, until there is a clear picture of what he'd seen.

The undershirt had been scoop-necked, and there’d been soft dark hair rising up from the neckline. He wonders how far down the hair spreads, if it goes all the way down to meet a trail on his stomach, or if it’s just across his sternum and the top of his chest. His own chest hair is light and patchy, and doesn’t go very far down at all, his nipples are hairless, and he wonders if Rafael’s are as well, or if that dark hair grows over his pecs, brushing up against the metallic barbell.

He flops down on his bed, unbuckling his belt and shoving his pants off unceremoniously. He doesn’t bother unbuttoning his shirt, just pulling things off over his head and dumping them on the floor until he is sprawled on top of the duvet in just his socks.

He brushes a hand gently across one of his own nipples. They’re not as sensitive as some guys he’s been with, but there’s a nice tingle when he gently tugs at it, rolling it between his fingers until it hardens. He’s certain he’d only seen the jewelry on one side, and he wonders if there’s much of a difference in the feeling in each of them, if Barba – Rafael – feels things more acutely on the pierced one.

He spreads his legs, shifting his hips until he’s lying comfortably back. His cock is hard, had been halfway there the entire drive home, and now he closes his eyes and lets his brain loop back around, playing the two moments from this afternoon over and over again.

Rafael – the name he calls the ADA only in his mind – smirking at him as he says “thank you”, says his name, even if it’s his last name, it’s _his_ name, not an impersonal title. He wishes he’d been able to record the acknowledgement, wants to make it his damn ringtone, but he will have to be content to play it back in his head whenever he wants.

And then the embarrassment at being caught with his shirt off, the man’s cheeks a dark red, the way his muscles had flexed unconsciously. Rafael’s chest is thick enough that Sonny feels he can almost call them tits, thick and firm enough that he could probably grip handfuls, could probably push them together to create a divot for his cock to fuck up between.

“Yeah,” he mutters to himself. “Wanna fuck your tits, Rafael.” His fingers clench and flex as if groping at the other man’s flesh, and he palms himself, pushing up against his hand.

He licks his hand and reaches back down, wrapping spit-slick fingers around his shaft and jerking his cock roughly. He imagines it, Rafael on his back with Sonny straddling his chest, his cock fucking up between his tits. In his fantasy, Rafael’s head is tilted and his tongue is sticking out so he can lick at the tip of Sonny’s cock every time it fucks up towards his mouth.

In his mind, Rafael is thanking him, over and over, thanking him for all of his hard work on the case, for everything he brings to the team, for how much he’s helped Rafael personally over the past two years. He thanks Sonny for noticing him, for making a move, because they fit so well together.

Sonny’s hand is tight and fast on his cock as he thinks about riding Rafael, his cock rubbing against the other man’s stomach, his hands on his chest for balance. He would use Rafael's tits for support, letting them fill his palms as he leans over the other man, swiveling his hips, controlling the ride even as it's his ass being fucked. His thumbs would drag over peaked nipples, and he imagines that pinching them would cause Rafael's hips to stutter, cause his cock to jerk inside him.

He reaches up and pinches his own nipple again, letting out a low gasp as he flicks his thumbnail over it. He is already close and he drags his nails across his chest, arching his back into the sharpness.

“Rafael,” he says, and then again, “oh fuck, Rafael!” He calls it out in a grunt as he comes, his cock jerking in his hand as he paints his torso with streaks of white come.

His muscles relax and he sinks back into the bed, his hand still on his cock. It’s softening, but not fully flaccid, and he idly strokes it, hissing at the oversensitivity but enjoying the slightly painful edge just enough to keep doing it.

He thinks again about the way Rafael’s chest had flexed, drawing his attention immediately downward.

“Show ‘em to me,” he whispers, “you wanted me to see them, didn’t you?” He knows the ADA hadn’t been doing it on purpose but he’s deep in his fantasy now, where Rafael had known Sonny would return and had contrived to be undressed when he came back.

“You wanted me to see the fabric clinging to your pretty tits, didn’t you?” He groans as his cock thickens up again under his hand. “You wanted me to see your piercing, see your nipples all dark through the wet shirt.” It’d been barely a glance but he remembers the shadows of them, the dusky brown under the white shirt.

He runs his tongue over his teeth, thinking about how the barbell might taste, if it would be metallic or if he would just taste skin. Would it be cold against his lips or warm from the heat Barba exudes? He imagines sucking it into his mouth, sealing his lips tightly and flicking his tongue against the beads, flicking around and around the nipple, laving the areola with small licks and nips until Rafael is writhing beneath him.

In his mind he switches sides, kissing his way across Rafael’s chest to the unpierced nipple. He’s curious as to whether it would be less sensitive because it's not constantly rubbing against something, or more sensitive, because it hasn’t had the chance to become dull to the feeling. He will worship them both equally, sucking until they are hard peaks, shiny and wet with his spit, rising up from his mounds of flesh.

Sonny gropes at his own meager chest, plucking at his nipples, tugging them as he fists his cock. Little zips of sensation shoot down his spine to his balls, which he feels drawing up tight, getting ready to come again.

His hand is drying up and he spits in it again, rubbing his thumb over the head of his cock to spread the pre-come around. His muscles are quivering as he focuses on trying to climb over the peak to another orgasm and he feels sweat dripping down his collarbone, along his brow.

He pictures Rafael’s collarbone, the hair below it, the delicate curve of his neck above, and he pictures beads of sweat there. He can taste it on his tongue, the salty sweetness of Rafael’s body.

His entire body tenses up and he comes again, Rafael’s name once again spilling from his lips as come spills from his cock, less this time but still hot and sticky and covering his fingers. Some of it hits his chest, spattering across his nipples. He swipes a thumb through it and brings it to his mouth, tasting himself.

He reaches for his abandoned boxers, using them to wipe the mess off his hand and stomach, before dropping them back on the floor. He needs to shower, needs to wash off the sticky flakiness before crawling under the covers, but he wants to bask in his afterglow for a bit first.

Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day and he’s going to be in court for most of it, watching Barba do his peacock strut around the room. He wonders what the ADA will be wearing, if there will be suspenders that he can imagine rubbing constantly against the piercing. He doesn't know how he's going to manage to sit calmly in the courtroom when he knows what's hiding beneath the layers of fabric. He shivers at the thought that no one else there will know what he does. No one else has seen that hidden treasure, it belongs to Sonny's mind alone.

The case is very nearly signed, sealed, and delivered, and Sonny makes the same promise to himself that he makes with every trial. When they win – and they will win – he will ask Rafael out for dinner.

As he scratches lazily at his stomach, luxuriating in the exhilaration of back-to-back orgasms, he is stern with himself. No more pussy-footing around with this crush, he’s going to make his move tomorrow no matter the outcome.

**Author's Note:**

> In this new canon, there is no stupid out-of-character fight in the courtroom corridor, Rafael wins the case without any trouble, and Sonny asks him out for dinner. Rafael shows up in an extremely tight shirt, because he knows exactly what's up.


End file.
